


Gentle Touches

by NicktheMoon



Series: Old DotA Snippets [12]
Category: Dota 2
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicktheMoon/pseuds/NicktheMoon
Summary: Terrorblade is an expert in using just the right amount of pressure.





	Gentle Touches

Terrorblade considered himself a master of a ‘light touch’ when it came to knifeplay. Given the time or the inclination, he found no guilt in the pleasure he got from slicing an enemy, ribboning their flesh with the elegant touch of an artist painting a masterpiece.

Under him laid Dragonus, wings tucked under his back and bare chested. Calm and waiting, eyes flitting to his blade in anticipation, willing and trusting. He wasn’t even wearing his helmet, exposing tawny hair the same hue as his wings. The skywrath wanted this. Terrorblade tightened his hold on the weapon. Lowering onto his knees he straddled Dragonus’ waist, tip of the blade resting over his heart. Dragonus licked his lips. His breathing was steady.

“Safe word?” Terrorblade grunted, dragging the tip to press under Dragonus’ chin.  
“Clarity.” Giving him a shadow of a smile, Terrorblade drew the blade down again. He flicked his wrist and the weapon whipped over his left breast. Dragonus hissed. Blood blossomed from the cut. Terrorblade’s grip had never been tighter. The blade slowly dragged over pale skin. Another flick and a matching cut was sliced into the right breast. Beneath him Dragonus gasped, looking straight up to the heavens. The look in those strange, completely blue eyes was like a man drugged and awed.

The power itself was intoxicating. To have the Skywrath Mage laid before him, so trusting and eager for every cut and was another level of heady he had never felt before. Terrorblade hesitated before touching the red tip to Dragonus’ lips.  
“Look at me. Or the game stops.” Unsatisfied with the nod he pressed the tip past Dragonus’ lips. “Answer me.”  
“Yes. I understand.” Ignoring the brief, so brief glimpse of Dragonus’ tongue against the edge of his blade, Terrorblade drew back from Dragonus’ mouth and refocused his attention on his chest. Thin lines of blood trickled from the first cuts, outlining his muscles.

With every cut Dragonus groaned and hissed, withholding flinches. A model canvas, steady even as Terrorblade felt a bulge stiffen and heat up under the skirt he wore. He wasn’t unaffected either but he was permitted to react, to lazily roll his hips and press against Dragonus’ waist as he sculpted into beautiful flesh. He only paused to brush away the red obscuring his handiwork, holding his fingers over Dragonus’ mouth as a silent command. 

Purposefully slow he finished and cast aside his blade, dripping blood delicately almost exclusively from the tip. Etched into Dragonus’ chest was Terrorblades sigil, the mark of his infamous Sunder. Casting only a rudimentary glance at his chest Dragonus breathed deeply, chest rising and falling to test each cut. At the lingering sting he smiled blissfully.

Terrorblade hadn’t asked why Dragonus had wanted this and he didn’t truly care to. He lowered his head, licking over a patch of wet blood. Aware of the careful gaze watching him, he chuckled and straightened again. “We’re not done yet.” Divine as it would be to clean the blood off him, there was more to do.


End file.
